traceyh415

" I haven't seen you for a long time." As I approach the homeless encampment, I see all the familiar signs. There are clothes strewn about the ground. There are wrappers from sweet treats eating in haste and discarded by the user. There are cardboard boxes folded flat. There are old couch cushions. This is clearly an area where someone has set up house. " I haven't seen you in years!" I hastily reply as I dart around the corner. I am attempting to catch the next train out of the shit hole that I use to call my home. I need to get home before the tofurky starts to thaw that i have placed in my back pack. Tofurky- a "roast" made out of meat substitutes is a tradition for me. Now that both my parents are gone, I have started to create my own legacy for my children to grasp on to long after I have left the Earth. I recognized the face. The face was that of an older black man. His eyes have glazed over with time, almost a greyish color. The bags un...

Buy my PDF for the holidays or kick down a few dollars to junkies in need. My Paypal is traceyh415@gmail.com. My email is the same. I send care packages to users that have no access to clean supplies. 

Holes in my skin, My eyes are pinned, Fell into a hole, I have no control. The thing I love is killing me, I'm escaping from reality, I just want to get high, I can't remember why. My money left with all my friends, I sit alone, blood on my skin, The pinprick is now a festering sore, Leave me- rotting to my core. If I knew something different I would do it. So I am left with fuck it. I deceive myself and love my lies Tears of happiness are in my eyes. One day I will stop this madness. One day I will end my sadness. But today is not that day, So go the fuck away. Now go the fuck away. This is a person sleeping on the concrete

Holidays are just different when you are a drug addict. Every day is so unpredictable, let alone a day when dealers decide they need to spend time with their families First, there is the whole "how many people am I going to have to hide my using from?" I think in many families, there is that one family member who could potentially "out" you as an addict. Do you bring drugs with you? How long will you be staying? Is traveling involved in this deal. So many elements to ponder. Secondly, there is the opportunity for a parent or sibling to have WAY too much to drink and decide to make your using a subject of meal time conversation. "well this must be better than the meals you had in jail" or "before you wrecked your car" or "what happened to that last girl you were seeing" and finally "if you ever had any money". An addict already has low self esteem. Therefore, these digs provide more ammunition for me to dig in my arm. The Hol...

I have these holes in my legs. I have these scars on my arms. I have this hole in my heart. I can not be you, I have to be me.  I accept my imperfections. I do not need to be afraid of the different. I am unique and I have lived a life. I am wise beyond my years.  Do not think that I am broken. Please accept that I have sinned. Kiss my tears and hold my bruises. I think it is time I let you in.  Come inside. Who knows what you will find. 

Music can remind you of a time and a place in your life. When I hear certain songs, it seems as if I am transported to a different time and a place in my memory. There are some songs that make me FEEL a certain memory. I feel what I was feeling on that day. As I moved from homeless junkie punk into mini van mom, I noticed music is hard for me to enjoy. So much of my using involved being in a closed space listening to the same 12 songs over and over, too fucked up to move. I would have a 40 oz in my hand with a trickle of blood on my wrist or dripping down my forearm. There were so many spots, it look like I had a skin disease. I was sleeping where I feel out and waking where I came to consciousness, where that was I had not control of after a blackout evening. I have lived in three different music studios as they were a safe place for a homeless person to catch a safe nights sleep and still have access to a bathroom. I think one of the intrinsic selling points of a mini van is that i...

Some days I hate trying to write and everything I say seems to come out the wrong way. I am sensitive. I want you to like me. I want you to think I am special because I can turn a phrase. I get frozen with my insecurity. Understand my confusion when my tongue is tied for you. 

There are different kinds of people in this world. Just as there is diversity in the world around us, so it logically follows there would be diversity in the addict habitat. Here are a few: Captain save a bro: This type of user refuses to admit he is addicted, yet constantly wants to sample some of your bag. He will arrive on the scene with money swearing up and down that he is not going to use. He has a job, a place to live and will occasionally let you stay there. Yet, the captain can only use at your place therefore you are happy to see him as he always has money. Chronic illness Jill: Jill does not have cancer, lupus, or any other diagnosable condition. No, Jill is ALWAYS sick yet will not have sex with you or anyone for drugs. Her general good looks enticing yet she only wants to cuddle after she has ingested copious amounts of YOUR drugs. If she ever has her own drugs, she certainly is not sharing with you. Between her over priced connect and constant whining, you would put...

When I train hopped, the easiest way to score- Look for a punk flyer, go to the show, meet new people, get connects, and hopefully find some young chick wanting to piss off her parents so we could crash for a while and use her sweet, sweet cash while we talked about what we'd steal when we left. Funny enough, as a squatter who frankly stank like ass and looked like a leather peacock with studs, I only one time caught shit while walking in projects and ghettos. And even that one time was some punk kid with his boys telling me I had a hole in my pants (the knee was completely gone by that point). Other than that, always got treated like I belonged there. I think the reason you don't see many is because alot of them are gone...I know I only have one friend from that time that is still alive and still living the life that I know of. One went back to nyc and got clean. I watched them drop around me like flies. Tim, the 17 year old who didn't take methadone seriou...

Right now the cat is sitting on my lap picking at his skin. He over grooms himself to the point that he leaves bald spots and scabs. I relate to my cat. I am abrasive like the tongue of a cat. I dig at myself with barbs of insecurity. I rub away my healthy exterior and dig until I reach the vulnerable places. When I reach my sore spot, I am left with an ugly spot on an otherwise beautiful person. I have fifteen years in recovery. Fifteen years of declining the invitation to say fuck it all. I have to find daily ways to cope with disappointment. I have to deal with resentments. I deal with track marks that have turned into sink holes. I have abscess scars that look like the landscape of the moon. I have cellulite because I took up eating as a recreational activity. I have some fabulous tattoos, a wedding ring, some grey hairs, and some dark circles under my eyes.  Am I happy with my life? Absolutely! Simple things make me happy in my daily life. I am not focused on the next ...

Grinding my teeth. I've had so much coffee. Thinking about you gives me a fucking headache. I've got another craving. I am crazy over you. Why do I care about what you are doing right now? It has been so long.  I felt so strong- knowing I can just let you pass by without a tear being shed. You like to get inside my head. You make me afraid to be alone with myself.  I put my heart up on a shelf- to get it away from you. The drugs that coarse through our veins make me insane. I have dope sick love. I swear I won't take you anymore but I draw you up inside me. The chills coming up my spine split my mind into painful pieces. They are a reminder of how you bound me. All my friends are gone. All my money is gone. Cuddle up with my bones. We can pretend I'm normal again... My self esteem is in shards. It is crystal clear I feel the cravings. I'm grinding my teeth with anxiety. I have a craving. I'd give anything for that feeling that took ev...

Thank you for my gift 

I have some time to kill in my hotel room in Portland. I have had a few days to think about things besides the mental health of those around me and the immediate needs of my children. I have to say that while I am enjoying my vacation, I also enjoy the chaotic life I lead at home. I feel as if so many people bounce from thing to thing. They never get an opportunity to find the things that give their lives a purpose. While junkies maybe be an incredible pain in the ass at times, helping them achieve a voice has created a new sense of energy.  I can only be myself. In being myself, I have many complex layers. I can be the PTA person and the syringe distribution advocate at the same time. I can discuss with my son that a crescent can be a shape AND a type of moon at the same time. We are all many people that inhabit the same skin. Unlike others, I don't feel the necessity to suppress the areas of my interests that don't seem to relate in some way.  I think more than anything, my ...

Portland is awesome